Out Of The Closet
by DiDiGlee
Summary: This one-shot takes place right after Mercedes busted Kurt's window in 01x03. How did he break the news to his father? Why was Kurt feeling anxious to come out to his dad? NEW: One-shot set in Season Two after Furt.
1. Out Of The Closet

**Out Of The Closet**

"You busted my window! How could you do that? You busted my window!"

"Well, you busted my heart!"

Mercedes stormed off and left Kurt standing by his car in utter disbelief of what had just happened. His best friend had thrown a stone into the windshield of his car. One moment they were happily cleaning his car and looking forward to the Sound of Music sing-along they wanted to attend later on. The next moment Mercedes was accusing him of leading her on and breaking her heart.

How on earth could this have happened?

After the initial shock wore off, Kurt opened the door to the driver's seat and brushed the glass splinters off his seat with the cloth he'd used to polish the hood. He was angry with himself for not being honest with Mercedes. She was the only good friend he'd made in years. He didn't want to lose her over something stupid like this. However, lying had become sort of a reflex, like a survival instinct.

He sat down gingerly, making sure all the bits of broken glass were off the seat so he wouldn't tear up his trousers.

His greatest worry right now was how to tell his father about the broken window. So far he had been able to hide the visible marks the bullying left from his father's eye. The stains of slushies on his clothes. The scratches and bruises on his arms and on his back from locker slams and dumpster tosses. Kurt didn't want his father to know about the way his son was treated at school.

A loser. At the bottom of the social heap.

His father shouldn't have to put up with this crap, but the mechanic was suspicious and overly caring at times and would complain about how often a week the washing machine was on.

"Maybe this is the opportunity to finally tell him," Kurt whispered to himself, staring into the rearview mirror and knowing from the quiver in his voice and the panic in his eyes that he couldn't. The thought alone of coming out to his dad was absolutely frightening.

He couldn't. Not yet. He was still working on his confidence.

Kurt liked dressing up in nice clothes, pretending to be confident when really he wasn't. Instead he was self-conscious all of the time.

In his dreams a handsome boy would smile at him and take his hand, fearless and optimistic, and drag him along to show him a whole new world. _A dazzling place I never knew_... Kurt closed his eyes for a second and smiled to himself. Yeah, he had watched too many Disney movies and spend too much time singing all the songs in his head.

Right now he dreamed of a world in which he wouldn't have to be afraid of telling the truth.

That he did a double take when a guy with an impressive bulge walked by.

That he had a crush on the handsome but rather naive Quarterback Finn Hudson.

That he was gay.

In this world no one would tease him about wearing fashionable clothes or reading Vogue or taking extra care of his skin.

But this world didn't exist. And the rusted, unattractive, compelling world he was living in expected him to adjust and play by its rules.

And now he was scared of losing Mercedes. She was the only friend he had made in years and he was comfortable around her. He could make her laugh and she didn't shun him for his superior attitude. They shared the same humor! Goodness, it was so hard to find someone who shared his sarcastic dry kind of humor.

How should he survive high school without her?

Kurt started his engine and backed out of the parking space to get on his way.

He hadn't meant to lead Mercedes on. He hadn't even been aware of her feelings for him. His lack of experience was to blame since he wasn't used to having friends and didn't know how to act around people. Had he done anything to make Mercedes think they were dating?

He had no clue.

He had trouble opening up to people, but never before had NOT telling gotten him into trouble like this.

And now Mercedes thought that he was in love with Rachel Annoying Berry of all people! Gosh, he could only hope Mercedes didn't gossip about it!

All of it was so hard and tiring. Sometimes it was just unbearable, having no one to talk to about his feelings. Sometimes he felt so lonely that it hurt. But he told himself to be brave and strong and just to wait. Someday, somewhere things would look up for him. Hopefully soon.

* * *

Ten minutes later he parked in the driveway of his father's garage.

He checked his appearance quickly in the rearview mirror and fumbled with his bow tie before he got out of the car. Black trousers with white leather shoes, a green shirt and bow tie. Good fashion choice today, he complimented himself. He buttoned his white jacket and walked up into the shop, careful not to touch anything or brush against something since his jacket was too white to mess with.

He spotted his father. "Hey Dad..."

"Kurt? Whatcha doing here? Didn't you wanna go to that sing-along thing tonight?"

"Yes, but I've had a sudden change of plans." Kurt tilted his head towards his parked car with a meaningful look.

His father stepped around him to have a look outside. When Burt saw the broken window his face dropped. "What the heck happened to your car?"

Kurt rested his elbow on the arm that was wrapped around his middle and smoothed his finger over his right eyebrow. "A friend broke my window."

"A friend?" Burt repeated doubtful and with a rising voice.

"The girl I told you about? Mercedes? We were at the car wash to raise money for the glee club. We had some kind of an argument and then she threw a stone into my window."

Burt gazed at his son doubtfully. "What argument makes you break someone's window?"

"Well, she kind of thought we were dating and when I told her that that wasn't the case she just snapped." Kurt rolled his eyes and let out a long breath. "_Girls_!"

Burt wiped his greasy hands on a cloth. "Why aren't ya?"

When his father was upset he tended to speak in this awful street slang that Kurt refused to understand. He raised a perfect brow at his father. "I beg your pardon?"

"Why aren't you?"

"Why aren't I _what_?" Kurt repeated the question exasperately.

"Dating that girl." Burt opened his arms like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You talk about her a lot. Sounds pretty much like you like her to me."

"Well, I'm not dating her because she's…"

_A girl. And I'm not interested in girls. In fact, I'm into boys. Deal with it._

_Say it. Say it! _

"She's not my type," he finished lamely, shifting his feet. "I only like her as a friend."

_Coward_.

He met his father's gaze who looked somehow disappointed. But he might just be annoyed by the fact that the window of his son's new car was broken.

"Hey Kurt!" Burt's assistant walked by and smiled fondly at the boy.

"Oh, hi Jeremy!" Kurt squeaked, his voice suddenly a few octaves too high. "I didn't know you were back."

"Yeah, Chicago didn't quite work out for me, so now I'm back in good ol' Lima. Glad your daddy-o still had work for an unreliable jackass like me." He winked at the boy with a smile. "You're doing alright, Kurt?"

"Why, thank you! I'm fabulous." Kurt's hand flew up to check if his bangs were in order.

"Say, do I get to see you in these overalls again?" Jeremy tucked at the front of his own. "You look good in them."

"Oh, merci." Kurt blushed and giggled that close-mouthed giggle of his.

"Get back to work, Jerry!" Burt ordered, not liking the way his son got all flustered in the young man's presence.

"See ya around, Kurt!" Jeremy strolled across the shop and disappeared underneath the hood of a Chevrolet.

Kurt craned his neck to catch a glance of Jerry's backside, then puckered his lips and unconsciously stroked his fingers along the line of his jaw. Black curly hair, brown eyes and a very well-rounded backside… Gee, this guy definitely was a sight for sore eyes.

Kurt put a finger into the collar of his shirt, loosened his bow tie and cleared his throat. "So hot in here, Dad, can you open a window?"

"Say, have you been wearing those long jumpers again?" Burt asked accusingly.

"No!" Kurt shouted defensively but at the skeptical glance of his father he backpedalled. "Well, _maybe_. Look, I can't just store them all away in my closet, they're way too expensive and too beautiful for that. Beauty needs to be out in the open."

"Same goes for honesty."

Kurt stared at his father who'd turned away under the hood of a car. He wasn't sure what this comment was supposed to mean. Did his father think he lied about who broke the window? Granted, it may sound far-fetched to come up with a brokenhearted girl to throw stones into car windows.

"I told you the truth," Kurt spoke up. "Mercedes threw the stone because she was upset." As an afterthought he quickly added, "But please don't call her parents about it. I don't want her to get into trouble."

"Alright. I'll fix it." Burt replied grumpily, and added with a chuckle, "You know, when I imagined you coming home with girl-trouble for the first time I had not been expecting something like this. Looks like the girls are really tough nowadays."

"Yeah, and annoying," Kurt added, thinking about Rachel Berry. "If you excuse me now, I have to go."

"Wait up! You're not going anywhere, son!"

Kurt stopped dead in his tracks.

"Not in this car. I'll fix the window as soon as I can. Until then you gotta take the shop car."

"No way!" Kurt protested immediately. "It smells rotten. And the seat is always dirty and the steering wheel is greasy and I'm not going to ruin my white jacket!"

"Okay okay. Take mine." With a sigh Burt dug his keys out of his pocket and threw them at his son. Kurt caught them with his right hand and a grateful smile on his lips. "Thanks, Dad! See you at home."

* * *

Kurt was standing in front of his closet with the doors wide open and his clothes threwn all over the place. Doing inventory and putting outfits together was his favorite pasttime activity and it calmed him and distracted him from dark thoughts.

Clothes were the only things that made him feel good about himself. It was like an armor that protected him, made him feel better than he was. Even when jerks like Puckerman threw him into dumpsters and ruined his favorite pieces he couldn't stop. Clothes were like drugs to him.

He was just looking at himself in the body mirror holding up two different ties when he heard footsteps on the stairs. A second later his father came into view with his hands shoved in his pockets and wearing his alltime favorite hat.

"Dad!" Kurt called out nervously. "Can I help you?"

"Just wanted to say hello. Haven't been down here for a while."

"That's true." Kurt didn't like the scrutinizing way his father looked around the place and all the clothes everywhere.

"Have ya rearranged the furniture?"

"Yes, I've moved the couch and the desk to have more room for my vanity."

"What'cha doing?"

"Just going through my closet, you know? Planning outfits for the week." Kurt chuckled nervously. He hated being so anxious around his father. It had become worse lately. Every time his father acted slightly unusual Kurt was scared of the inevitable question. It had to come sooner or later.

_People talk about you, kiddo. A normal teenage boy wouldn't wear this kind of clothes. I was wondering... could it be... are you... gay?_

Kurt had some words prepared, a kind of speech even, to defend himself, to explain himself, but he dreaded the confrontation anyway and decided that as long as his father didn't ask him he wouldn't tell.

The plain thought that his father could hate and abandon him was unbearable. His father was everything he had. He couldn't lose him.

"I was wondering..." Burt started and Kurt froze in panic. Even though he was prepared for this conversation in theory, in reality he wasn't.

His father scratched his neck and seemed to be uncomfortable.

_Me, too, Dad, me, too._

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to come upstairs and watch the game with me? It's up in ten minutes. If you want I could order some pizza or Chinese. Your choice."

Kurt let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "No thanks. I had a rather large tuna salad today. And I'd like to continue my clothes project."

"Okay then," Burt said with a firm nod. "Have fun. If you need me, I'm upstairs."

Burt turned to leave again, but then pointed to the closet. "Do you need more space? That's an awful amount of clothes you have there."

"I'm fine, thanks, Dad."

"Alright."

Kurt knew he shouldn't feel so relieved when his father left him alone again. In his dread of coming out Kurt had been avoiding his father lately but in the long run it made him even more sick in the pit of his stomach. It had become a habit to say no to any suggestion of shared activities but each time he turned down his father it made him feel guilty and even disappointed in himself.

His father deserved a son who would watch the game with him.

After a moment the sound of the game on TV was blasting from upstairs and Kurt sat down on his bed and before he knew it he was fighting unexpected tears.

He felt so lonely. He shouldn't be feeling this lonely in his own home. But the only person in the whole wide world that he loved more than anything was slipping away from him and it was his own fault.

He took a deep breath to stay composed and smoothed the black tie in his hands, the one with the big yellow smiley on the front. He only wore it when he was feeling down and lonely and needed a reminder every time he looked into a mirror to smile. He was going to wear it the next day when he was bound to be meeting Mercedes again. It would be hard to keep a smile on his face then.

Kurt changed into his new favorite outfit, a red form-fitting sweater with big black buttons that ended just over his knees and black jeans. A quick look into the mirror again and he made his way upstairs on socks.

Quietly, he entered the living room, not wanting to distract his father from the game. Burt acknowledged his presence with a quick side glance and a friendly grunt.

The boy sat down on the single couch gingerly, his feet up and embracing his legs, crawling up on himself like a scared kitten. He stretched his jumper over his knees. For once being comfortable was more important than being fashionably correct.

"Popcorn?" Burt held out a bowl of self-made popcorn. "I didn't order pizza after all."

"Thanks." Kurt dug his hand into the bowl for a handful and popped one after one into his mouth. For a while he stared at the screen, following the game together with his father, but he was looking at different things than his father was.

"Why do the players have to wear stirrup pants? They look ridiculous."

"Nobody cares about their clothes as long as they're winning," Burt replied with a grunt, not taking his eyes off the screen. "They could be wearing tutus for as much as I care."

Kurt imagined Finn Hudson in his football gear and a tutu and started giggling. "I'd _love_ to see that!"

"By the way, I found your collection."

Kurt gulped and looked up in horror. _Please not the magazines April Rhodes gave me, please not the magazines! _

"In that box, those crown thingies…"

Phew… Kurt exhaled a breath of relief. "They are called tiaras, Dad. What about them?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering... What do you need them for?"

"What do other guys need books full of stamps for? Or baseball cards?" Kurt was getting defensive. "I'm collecting prom tiaras, so what? I like them, there are shiny and beautiful."

"Aren't they girls accessories?"

"Now, that's a very antic and sexistic thing to say. Besides, what are you doing looking into my hope chest anyway? That's invading my privacy."

"I was looking for a photo book." Now it was Burt's turn to get defensive. "And I wasn't aware that you own that hope chest now. It used to be your mother's."

Kurt folded his arms awkwardly and shifted his feet. He wasn't used talking about his mother. They both weren't. "What photo book are you looking for?" His voice was calm again. "I keep most of them in my desk drawer."

"Never mind." Burt waved it off.

"Which one?" Kurt insisted. "I'm going to find it for you."

Burt pushed his hat into his neck and ran a hand over his almost bald head before adjusting the cap again. "Your baby pictures," he finally said with a shrug. "Just wanted to have a look at them again."

"Oh, okay."

They resumed watching the game in silence for a while until Burt spoke again.

"So tell me…" His father said and cleared his throat.

Kurt stared at him expectantly, anxiously awaiting his next words while his heart bumped violently against his chest. This was it. He would ask him now.

"How's the … what's it called? Glee club? How's it going? You like it?"

"Yeah, I like it."

Just when had he become scared of his father? He couldn't really say. It wasn't that he was afraid of his father in general. It was more the fear of being found out, of being confronted. He was afraid of the question "Are you gay?" and of the reaction.

Would Burt be disappointed? Would he stop loving him? Would he hit him and chase him away? Kurt couldn't believe the latter. His father had never raised a hand against him. He couldn't imagine his father lashing out at him. But he couldn't be sure. Burt might get angry or upset.

Kurt was scared of the change. Of his father looking at him differently.

Why did his father have to know about this anyway? Couldn't things just stay the way they were? What exactly would change if his father knew? He was the same person as before. The same person only gay. Why was it so important that his father knew? That anyone knew?

Lost in his terrifying thoughts he flinched slightly when his father suddenly spoke up.

"This Elton John's a good man."

"Excuse me?" Just now Kurt saw that there was an interview with the musician on TV for whatever reason in the half time of the game.

"Bit excentric at times and he's overdoing it with his outfits," Burt went on casually. "But I guess that's part of the showbiz."

Now Kurt was staring at his father with wide eyes and swallowed before saying, "He's... gay."

"So what?" Burt shrugged. "Makes some fine music that man. Your mother loved his records, especially the slow ones. Who cares if he's gay or whatever. Right?"

A smile of surprise spread on Kurt's face. "Yeah, right."

Burt was looking at the screen but his hands were twisting and Kurt could tell he wasn't really following the interview. "Kurt..."

Kurt flinched slightly and prepared himself once more for the big question. His nails dug into the fabric of his sweater and his throat was dry all of a sudden. "Yes?"

"I just wanna say..."

Kurt felt his father's gaze on him but he couldn't meet his eyes, he couldn't.

"I'm just hoping you're not judging people for who they are or how they dress, alright?" Burt finally said in his gruffy way. "Not under my roof."

"I'm not judging people," Kurt replied, once more relieved. "Other than baseballplayers in stirrup pants, that is."

Burt chuckled and grinned over at his son. "Not everybody has such an exquisite closet as you have," he teased.

"That's true!" Kurt grinned over at his father.

"What about your clothes project down there? You're done?"

"Yes, everything's back in the closet, neatly and in order."

Burt chuckled. "Knowing you not for long."

"I told you it's a fashion crime to keep clothes stuffed away for too long! They need to get out of the closet eventually, better sooner than later!" Just as the words had left his mouth Kurt realized how meaningful they were. And his father seemed to get the clue as well.

"You're right there, kiddo."

Kurt swallowed hard and met his father's eyes, all serious and challenging. A wave of panic clutched his heart and Kurt focused his eyes on the TV screen again. He couldn't. Not yet. If ever.

"But, you know, whatever you keep in there," Burt cleared his throat. "It's your own choice when or how you get it out of the closet to show it off."

Kurt didn't reply anything to this but kept kneading the seam of his sweater in his hands.

His father took a swig of his beer. "You know, Kurt, if there's anything you'd like to talk about, I'm always here, 'kay?"

Kurt nodded. "I know. Thanks, Dad."

"Just take your time, kiddo."

Kurt blushed again. And didn't ask what for.

However, the step out of the closet didn't seem too scary anymore.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Doesn't stop me from loving it way too much.**

**Thank you for reading! Please review if you liked this one-shot.**

**_Normallyweirdm_, you are officially amazing! :) And you have a special place in my heart. Thanks for your help!**


	2. The Two Of Us

**Summary: Kurt is depressed from bullying and Burt tries his best to comfort him. **

**This is not really a sequel to **_**Out Of The Closet**_**, but it's about some Burt and Kurt moments, so I put it in here. :)**

**This one-shot is set in SEASON TWO after **_**Furt**_**.**

**TRIGGER WARNING: talk about depression, talk about suicide**

* * *

**The Two Of Us**

"Are these the same clothes you wore yesterday?" Burt asked, raising his brows in astonishment.

"It's just clothes, Dad. What does it matter?" Kurt answered in a flat voice without looking up from his cereal.

Burt and Carole shared a concerned look. If they hadn't known that Kurt was depressed, they knew definitely this instant.

"I remember you telling me how much clothes mattered like _every day_." Burt laughed a little in an attempt to make his son smile.

Kurt just sighed and gave a one-sided shrug. "It's just that I don't see the point anymore..."

"In getting dressed?" Finn smirked. "Dude, you run around in the streets naked you'll get beaten up before you can count to three." Finn obviously tried to cheer his stepbrother up, but failed royally. He realized how inappropriate his comment was when not just Kurt, but even Carole and Burt glared at him.

"I get beaten up for wearing the kind of clothes that I like," Kurt reminded him coolly.

Finn made a face. "I'm sorry, I didn't ..."

"It's not just about clothes anyway," Kurt interruped him. "It's just... _everything_!"

He shrugged and glanced at his parents. It was still so weird to think of them as a family. "I mean, what's the point in living... in a world that's so cruel and hateful and... I know they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Well, I used to think I was strong, but just lately I've been proven I was wrong. To be honest, right now I could lay down and die and not give a damn..."

"I don't want to hear you talking like this!" Burt got loud and the three of them jumped. "Do you even realize what you're talking about? Are you saying you want to die?"

Burt looked his son straight in the eye and Kurt returned the gaze without flinching, his eyes reflecting the hopelessness he felt inside.

"No, I'm just saying that I'm exhausted."

"Honey," Carole spoke up quietly. "We know you're having a hard time and things seem pointless to you, but don't lose hope! You are not alone in this. Don't forget about us! We're here for you. Our world would shatter into pieces if anything happened to you."

"I know, Carole. I'm sorry for saying all this. I'll go upstairs and lie down, if you don't mind."

This was all Kurt said. He got up and left. Carole put her hand on Burt's in an attempt to console him. Finn looked awkward. "I'd better be off to football practice."

After a while Burt went upstairs. He knocked and peeked into Kurt's room until he caught sight of his son. Kurt was lying fully dressed on the bed, eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling.

"How are you, son?"

"Tired. I just wanna lay here all day."

"Mind if I join you?" Burt took off his cap and sat down next to his son.

"Shoes!" Kurt reminded him and Burt kicked off his shoes. "Sorry."

They lay next to each other on their backs and didn't say anything for a while.

"Don't you need to get to work?"

"I called Jeremy to take care of the shop today. I couldn't concentrate anyway." Burt let out a deep sigh. "Do you think what happened lately doesn't affect me? That I don't feel helpless and lost by all this, too? I'm telling you, right now I'm scared shitless! I feel like I felt when your mum got sick and I knew she was going to die..."

"I'm not going to die, Dad. I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I'm just... so sick of it all."

"Come here," Burt opened his arm in an inviting gesture and after a second of hesitation Kurt snuggled into the embrace, laying his head and hand on his father's chest while Burt wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. They hadn't cuddled like this for a long time and Kurt had expected it to be awkward, instead he felt comfortable, safe and secure.

Burt closed his hand around his son's, noticing how small it was compared to his own and how thin his wrist was. It pained him over and over again to see his son like this, filled with sadness and hopelessness.

"I used to think I was strong, Dad," Kurt muttered. "I didn't mind being called a fag or worse. I don't let things like that get to me. But when everything started to go downhill with Karofsky it made me realize that I wasn't strong at all. It really got to me, even when I tried to shake it off, he scared the hell out of me. He meant it when he threatened to kill me. He was serious about it, because he was just as scared as I was, dreading to become the victim if anyone found out the truth about him. I'm not saying he'd actually kill me, but there are other ways to destroy a person."

"He won't be able to hurt you anymore, kiddo," Burt said reassuringly. "You'll be safe at Dalton."

"But no matter where I go there will always be someone like Karofsky out there," Kurt countered.

"There will also always be people who stand by your side and who love you," Burt reminded him. "And you need to talk to those who love you, kiddo. You have the tendency to keep stuff inside and that's doing you no good, Kurt. You will never be a bother to me or to anyone else. Of course I hate to see you sad and down, but if that's how you feel, don't hide it. Give us a chance to make you better. You know, I've read some stuff about parents whose kids committed suicide. They didn't even have a clue about what went on in their kids life, they were absolutely stunned by the suicide letter telling them their kid didn't want to be a bother to them."

"Dad, I won't hurt myself," Kurt promised.

"Yeah, you say that. Doesn't keep me from worrying, though. I don't want anything bad to happen to you – ever! But bad things happen!"

Burt let out a heavy sigh.

He knew too well how much hostility people could feel towards minorities, especially towards gays. By the time he had gotten aware of the possibility that his son might be gay, he'd been looking out for any sign of harassment in Lima. He'd been guiding Kurt around, avoiding people and places that he sensed a potential threat. As time went by however he had relaxed. So far he had never witnessed an insult or an attack against his son.

Now he realized his mistake.

The harassment has always been there, more or less intense, as soon as Kurt had been on his own. Nobody dared to insult a kid in front of his father, especially if the father is a hulk of a man. And of course Kurt would never tell him, ashamed to be the target of so much hatred.

Being picked on? Being called names? Thrown into dumpsters? His son? No way! He would never have believed it. So yeah, he had failed in his job to protect Kurt, but he wouldn't fail in helping him get on his feet again.

* * *

When Burt woke up, he was a little disorientated and confused by his surroundings. He wasn't in his own bed, that was for sure. Also it wasn't in the early morning hours anymore, because the sun shone brightly, shutted out only by a pair of velvet curtains.

Then he remembered Kurt's frustrated words at breakfast and their little nap together.

Burt turned around just to find himself alone in the big bed, a blanket drawn over his chest.

"Kurt?"

There was no answer.

He sat up and couldn't help the panic rising. He flung the blanket off and jumped out of bed. "Kurt? You here?" The father ran out of the room and downstairs, shouting for his son. "Kurt!"

He just realized the way his heart was racing inside his chest when he heard the familiar, beloved voice answering from the kitchen.

"I'm here, Dad!"

He found his son kneeling by the hearth, wearing rubber gloves up to his elbows and scrubbing it clean. A look at the clock told him that he had slept for almost two hours. Considering he didn't get much sleep the night before this wasn't surprising. Burt had been pondering all night long over his son being bullied up to such an extent that the boy was afraid to even go to school anymore. He only hoped that the new school was a friendlier place where his son would be able to breathe again.

"What the heck are you doing?"

"What does it look like to you?" Kurt replied with a sigh and sat back on his heels. "I've got something for you to do, as well. I need you to run some errands. I thought it would be nice if dinner was ready when Carole and Finn come home which means we'll have a bit of cooking to do, you and me. What do you think?"

"Sure, why not. That is, if you do the cooking and I just lend you a helping hand." Burt hesitated and tapped his fingers along the counter. "So, get your jacket, kiddo, we'll go shopping together."

Kurt looked up, clearly uncomfortable. "You can manage by yourself, Dad. It's just a few things."

"We haven't been shopping together for ages," Burt protested. "Plus, we could go to that clothes store you like. Didn't you say you wanted a new scarf or something in the Dalton school colors?"

"It's really not important."

Burt noticed that Kurt was reluctant to leave the house. He didn't blame him for being tired of facing the outside world, but it wouldn't help shutting himself in, either.

"Come on, Kurt. Don't make me drag you out."

* * *

They were scanning the rows of the supermarket for the items on Kurt's list when Burt noticed Mrs Glover who was an overly annoying customer from the garage. He tried to hide behind a pile of bananas, but too late. She had already spotted him.

"Well, if that ain't Mr Hummel! I haven't seen you for a while. How are you?" Mrs Glover approached Burt with waving hands.

"I'm fine, Mrs Glover, thank you. How do you do?" Burt replied friendly.

"Don't you need to be at your shop on Saturdays, too? I'm just wondering..."

"I took the day off to spend some quality time with my son."

"Oh, that is so important. Kids that age have so little time left for their parents," Mrs Glover babbled on. She was one of those people who loved to hear themselves talk. "My son James is just the same, especially since he's playing in the football team. Practice consumes all of his time. Do you know him, Kurt? You go to McKinley, too, don't you?"

"Not anymore, I've just recently transferred to Dalton Acadamy," Kurt answered in his sweetest voice. "But yes, James and I have met. He's a very talented football player and incredible strong. Did you know that he can lift up other students without any effort and throw them into the dumpster? I've had the pleasure a couple of times. You must be so proud of him."

With the most charming smile Kurt shoved the cart into the next aisle.

Burt couldn't help but smirk at Mrs Glover. He liked this bitchy sarcastic fighting version of his son much better than the hiding from the world version.

"Have a nice day, Mrs Glover." He hurried after his son and grabbed for a packet of cookies.

Kurt hit his father's hand as he wanted to put the cookies into the cart. "No, you can't have these. You can only have the sugar-free ones. Geez, Dad, what would you do if I wasn't around?"

"Well, you know, Carole takes care of me, too."

"Oh no, Carole isn't strict enough with your diet plan," Kurt raised a disapproving finger at his father. "I know she lets you eat burgers on Thursdays and don't deny it!"

"Yeah, well, she lets me live a little," Burt defended his newlywed wife.

"Won't do you any good if you get another heart attack," Kurt replied gruffly.

Burt stopped and opened his arms. "What are you getting so upset about?"

"I just don't want you to get sick," Kurt shot back. "Is that so hard to understand?"

For a moment they just stared at each other until Burt burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Kurt shook his head.

"Look at the two of us, Kurt. Both scared to death that anything might happen to the other one."

"I just can't imagine life without you, Dad," Kurt replied with a tiny voice and a shrug.

"Me neither without you."

An awkward silence followed in which they slowly walked on down the candy section.

"I won't let you have the sickly sweet cookies, though," Kurt finally spoke up in a dry voice.

Burt chuckled and wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders, squeezing him to his side. "I figured as much."

* * *

**Thank you for reading! :)**


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